Nipplegate sets stage for quirky and irreverent show

Paula Varjack. Photo by Christa Holka.

Nine Sixteenths at Warwick Arts Centre, on Thursday 12 February.

Review by Amanda Burden

Pale, male stale meets loud, proud, unbowed: Nipplegate sets stage for quirky and irreverent show.

Everyone loves an unexpected guest star. Who can forget Brad Pitt popping into Friends? Or Sir Ian McKellen propping up the bar at the Rovers Return? Or - and here I’m showing my vintage - 90s beat combo The Farm on Brookside? (Incidentally, I miss that show EVERY DAY). 

ut in 2004 a celebrity appearance broke the internet before breaking the internet was even a thing. Janet Jackson showed surprise boobage due to the now infamous Nipplegate wardrobe malfunction in the halftime show at the 2004 Superbowl. Cue instant moral panic, handwringing, pearl-clutching and a witch hunt worthy of any 16th-century Spanish inquisitor. The ensuing fallout derailed Jackson's career for years, while fellow boob-slippage architect Justin Timberlake's went from strength to strength.

Offbeat all-woman show Nine Sixteenths (a reference to the exposure time of the offending boob) reveals all the political machinations behind the scenes, driven by - you’ve guessed it - rich, powerful Republican white men, who are of course the arbiters of what is acceptable. Such as, for example, permission to grab the opposite sex by the nethers, as outlined in the Donald Trump way of doing things.

Nine Sixteenths catapults the audience into a multimedia kaleidoscope of theatre, dance, and lipsyncing, tracking Jackson’s rise, the half-second that shook the world, and the resultant career crash that left her scrambling. One tiny patch of flesh, broadcast to 150 million people, reshaped the cultural landscape forever - and yet Timberlake barely faltered. Varjack and her ensemble - Pauline Mayers, Julienne Doko, Endy McKay, and Livia Kojo Alour - cut through the absurdity to show how media gatekeepers decided what counted as scandal, who profited from it, and how marginalised groups are held to standards created just for them.

Nine Sixteenths cast. Photo by Christa Holka.

Varjack points out that probably the single most humiliating experience of Jackson’s life became her defining legacy. Wow. I have a litany of humiliating moments, but if I had to pick one it would probably be the time that, when trying on jeans in a charity shop, I overbalanced and toppled through the cubicle curtain into the shop itself, denim pooled round my ankles and granny pants fully on show. This incident still lives rent-free in my head but thankfully was only witnessed by two shop assistants and a charity browser. That said, the audience of millions notwithstanding, I can guarantee that Janet pulled off her malfunction with more aplomb than my red-faced shuffle out of the shop.

This clever, quirky show also celebrates Jackson’s influence, especially for young Black women bereft  of mainstream role models. It charts her path from 80s MTV pop princess to #metoo trailblazer, proving how she paved the way for Beyoncé, Lady Gaga and countless others, while skewering the largely white male executives who control who counts in the media. Varjack’s admiration is infectious: “Janet Jackson was a game changer. After her wardrobe malfunction, the industry tried to erase her, yet she kept creating, performing, and now we can finally recognise the injustice of what happened.”

At just over an hour, Nine Sixteenths is perfectly timed - fast and sharp but never outstaying its welcome. It’s funny when it can be, cutting when it needs to land a point, and unapologetically irreverent throughout. It mixes nostalgia with biting insight, reminding us why Janet Jackson - and Black female role models more broadly - matter just as much today as they did back then. Overall it answers the question: what happens when pale, male, stale collides with loud, proud, unbowed? You get brilliance, resilience, and raw talent that cannot be dictated to, derailed, or diminished.